“why must my visions be so clear? the truth? the truth, i’ve got work to do.”

i got shot with a buck shot, shot me down but you know you can’t paint a frown on a clown sewer gutter blood runs through my system death stopped by but i must have just missed him am i in a southwest street gang? do i bang? do i slang? do i let my m*th*f*cking nuts hang? but do you care? i got stabbed in the eye and you wadn’t nowhere and what about the time i got f*cked? when i got shot in the throat… f*cking sucked but your news wasn’t on it you could give a f*ck less never the less unless something happened in your suburb i’ma cut your daddy’s neck, you little f*cking nerd i don’t give a f*ck where you’re from boy so don’t tell me cause i don’t… give a f*ck it’s all about what’s going on in your head do or don’t you care about the seventeen dead? seventeen dead, anybody, yo seventeen dead, anybody, yo seventeen dead, anybody, yo do or don’t you care about the seventeen dead? seventeen dead, anybody yo seventeen dead, anybody yo seventeen dead, anybody yo you could give a f*ck less about the seventeen dead… “the seventeenth boyfriend lost his erection…”

i woke up next to a dead body roll it out the way and jump out of bed strap on my kicks and step out my room cause somehow, there’s another stiff in the bathroom dead f*cks all over the gr*ss i’ma kick somebody in they dead *ss quick to make a left on jefferson and i noticed there’s another stiff riding shotgun am i just seeing things? no is your mother a soggy hoe? i like to drink faygo, out in front of scotty’s but then one by one, my homeboys turned into dead bodies but i’m straight with that just don’t be leaving your guts in my car and sh*t “yo, wait a minute, wait, get your head on straight” i drop seventeen tears from eyes every f*cking day i gotta wonder if they do should i burn the rebel flag? or the red, white, and blue too? i can’t do much, but they can but those motherf*ckers got a death wish, man i’m gonna swim in they blood shed just to justify… the seventeen dead

yeah, dead bodies man. they ain’t so bad. i mean they’re all over the neighborhood and sh*t you know? but they don’t be f*cking with you. they just lay there dead and sh*t. i mean they tasted kinda straight, with a little mustard, man. yeah…”

seventeen dead bodies hanging from a telephone wire all seventeen on fire lightening up the sky with the smell of death rich, bigot, f*cker, take a deep breath looking at you makes me go batty muthaf*cka, don’t be nothing like your daddy cause he’s nothing but a redneck hoe him and his kind created this ghetto they can’t deal with they own creation move out further, suburb vacation but it don’t work like that knock at your door and it’s me running slug bat i’m a stick it to your f*cking nugget about seventeen times and you’re gonna love it motherf*cker, drive down my street and stare at the folks who can’t make end’s meet you don’t know now, but that’s the plan most people in h*ll were rich when they died, man take that to your golden bed cause i’ma cut ya *ss up… for the seventeen dead